I wanted to write something tonight and this is what I came up with. It's short but I still hope you'll enjoy it. Special thank you to Red Hardy for taking the time to beta this :) Let me know what you think.

This really is just a little piece of fluff without much plot. A small snippet of one of the many 'speed bumps' I'm sure the Winchesters encoutered along the way as they grew up crossing the country in the back of a 1967 Impala.

Speed Bumps

John Winchester had had enough. For the past twelve hours he'd been cooped up in the car with two teenage boys who seemed determined to drive him crazy as they drove across country. Why they'd ever take to provoking the driver was beyond him, but sleep-deprived and short-tempered to begin with, the former Marine had had enough. Yanking the wheel hard towards the shoulder of the road, he slammed on the brakes and shoved the door open. "Out," he barked already halfway out of the car.

The boys hesitated a moment and the identical stunned expressions on their faces would have been hilarious if John wasn't so pissed. Then they were scrambling out their respective doors, seventeen-year-old Dean out the front passenger, thirteen-year-old Sam out the rear.

"Dad -"

"Run." John cut the boys off, not ready to hear it, he'd been listening to it enough already. "Sam," he captured his younger son's gaze and pointed in the direction they'd just come. "That way." Sam opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, God bless his sense of self-preservation, and gave a quick nod instead. He wasn't happy but he'd comply and that was good enough for John because John wasn't happy either. "Twenty minutes, then come back." The mid-day sky was overcast, the weather was cool and John knew from where they'd come; Sam was smart, sharp and wouldn't talk to strangers. It was safe.

Sam cast his brother a pleading look. Dean met the look then dropped his eyes. John almost felt bad except he knew they needed this even if they didn't know it. Young and energetic, the boys had boundless energy that would be better burned out in a good old fashioned run along side the roadway than in bouncing back and forth in the confines of a car with him. The man didn't have to say anything else, Sam started to run.

Dean's gaze was dark with disapproval but he didn't say anything, just turned and started to run in the opposite direction of his brother. "Thirty minutes, Dean." John didn't raise his voice knowing his older son could easily hear him.

The curt 'Yes, sir' cut into something deep. He knew he wasn't being fair but then again, life wasn't fair. Just ask his wife.

John leaned back against the car and switched from watching one disappearing back to the other. God, this was hard. He hated being the 'bad guy' but at the end of it all he'd hate either of his boys being dead, more. Some day they'd thank him for all this; the discipline, training… someday. Just not today.

Alternating between checking his watch and watching the increasingly dark clouds, John finally pushed away from the car and started a leisurely paced lope in the direction Sam had gone, pretty certain of where'd he meet the boy on the kid's trip back. And he wasn't disappointed. But then again, regardless of what his youngest might think, John rarely was disappointed with him. No, Sam hadn't taken to the hunt with the same undisguised fervor as his older brother but the kid had his own strengths and compensated well in his lesser areas. He just wished he understood the teen a bit better.

Sam was surprised to see John.

"Dad?" Surprised and pleased if the big grin, complete with dimples, were any indication. "What are you doing here?" He sounded only slightly winded and John noted, with pride, that his endurance was developing nicely. Dean might tease his brother about being a 'geek' but there was nothing geeky about the maturing youngster. Already John could tell the kid was going to be taller then his brother, maybe even John himself as Sam was already a mess of long limbs and growth spurts and he'd only just turned thirteen. Now all the hunter had to do was figure out how to keep some weight on the lanky teen. The boy had a metabolism any woman would envy and the thought made him grin. That'd be at least a months worth of fodder in Dean's mind.

Smothering the smile, John matched Sam's pace, his muscular legs stretching out in rhythm with his son's long colt-like ones. "Nothing." He tossed off casually, enjoying a rare moment between just the two of them.

Another brief flash of dimples was his reward.

The distance passed in amicable silence as they jogged towards the car and John let his mind wander. He remembered jogging with Mary before she'd had Dean and then afterwards, the two of them and a baby stroller. They'd never gotten the chance after Sam was born. Mary…

His youngest cast a sidelong glance when John's cadence faltered but didn't say anything. He didn't have to as his father could read the unspoken concern in his son's eyes as easily as he had in the boy's mother. Sam was more like Mary then he could admit some days because, even after all this time, it still just hurt too damn much.

"Hey, Dad," Sam's voice was a welcome intrusion. "Who's that?" The boy tipped his head towards the car, now only a couple of hundred feet in front of them.

John's eyes narrowed. An old pickup truck was pulled up in front of the Impala and three young guys were checking her out. Immediately the hunter stiffened, something about the strangers set off a warning.

"Stay behind me," he growled as he picked up the pace. Sam fell in line behind him. "Hey," he called out distracting the men from the car, "that's my car."

The three guys stepped back as the Winchesters approached.

One of them, a big burly guy with an anchor tattoo on one bicep and a bad comb-over, smiled and John worked hard not to grimace. The guy had 'slime-ball' written all over him. "And she sure is a purdy one, at that." Slime-ball winked at Sam and John's face darkened, suddenly wishing his son wasn't with him.

"You shouldn't be leaving something so sweet on the side of the road," a second guy added. This one was more wiry, with a thick patch of black hair and a nervous twitch as if he were in need of a fix. John stiffened but forced a Cheshire smile,

"Yes, she is. So if you don't mind-"

Slime-ball held up his hand. "Actually we do… How much for the car?"

For a moment John was too stunned to answer, Sam piped up. "She's not for sale."

The third guy, quiet until now, snorted. "Everything's for sale, little boy," the look he gave Sam made John's skin crawl and his fingers curled into fists, "it's just the price that needs negotiating." The most muscular of the three, this one was bald and had a horrible scar that ran down the side of his face. It was as if someone had tried to cut his throat and missed. Too bad.

John shifted slightly to draw the man's attention away from Sam; there was no more pretense of friendliness. "Not this car."

"Ah c'mon, buddy," Slime-ball, obviously the social bunny of the group, cajoled, "Don't be like that. We don't want no trouble-"

"Then leave." John was tired of screwing around. The longer he pussy-footed around with these guys, the better the chance of someone getting hurt, and he'd be damned if it was going to be Sam. The revolver was drawn and aimed at the small pock-mark on Slime-ball's forehead before the men could blink. His hand was steady. "Now."

Instantly all three men stepped back, their hands held up in supplication. "Whoa, easy, big guy…" the third man beseeched. "No harm done. We just appreciate a fine piece of ass, that's all."

John's grip tightened.

"We're leaving," the wiry guy grabbed both his buddies by the backs of their jackets and jerked them towards the pick up truck, "take it easy. We're leaving."

The hunter didn't twitch until the other men got into their truck and pulled away from the Impala, the tires squealing and kicking up gravel. The vehicle pulled a one eighty and took off in the direction John and Sam had just come from. He didn't miss the hateful look the scarred man nailed him with as he glared at the Winchesters through the back window. It promised that this wasn't over but as John slowly lowered the gun he sighed. Yes it was. The Winchesters weren't going to be staying anywhere around here tonight.

Turning to Sam, he grunted, "Get in the car."

Even as the kid moved he was thinking about his brother. "What about Dean?"

John shrugged as he slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door. "He'll be pissed he missed the action." With a flick of his wrist, the engine growled to life, he glanced over his shoulder at his son and added casually, "Thought you'd have wanted to ride shotgun…"

He waited the heartbeat it took for Sam's whole face to light up and then the kid – God how could he not love him? – lanky legs and all, was scrambling over the bench-seat and dropping down next to him.

"Well all right then." John grinned, gunned the engine and roared away from the side of the road. He could already imagine the look on Dean's face when he saw he'd been relegated to the back, but John knew he'd get a couple more peaceful miles out of it this way, as Dean tried to figure out why he was in the back and Sam just enjoyed the view from the front.

And sometimes little speed bumps like this were all that it took to get them from one place to another.

The End